With the pseudonym Is Tropical, you could be forgiven for imagining that these musician’s were to be a tanned bunch of lascivious Adonis’ meticulously crafting an amalgamation of flagrant licks and bleeps. Well, the second part is relevant. The first is just a premonition- Is Tropical is in fact a trio shrouded in their own tatty scarves with just a mere snippet of their peep holes visible. And, I’m sure underneath, skin as ashen as an albino.
With this their first headline tour, the band decided to make it a little more prominent in the eyes of indie scamps by inviting fellow buzz band Egyptian Hip Hop along as joint headliners. So, for tonight at Stealth in Nottingham Is Tropical and Egyptian Hip Hop join alliances in an adolescent shit storm of beeps, glitches and communal sweat.
Is Tropical are first onstage, masked throughout as aforementioned, detonating their subsonic burr of twisting rhythmic beats in front of a backdrop of fuzzed out television static waves. They fire through the fairly placid yet hooky new single ‘When O When’ sublimely until a minute in when a shift in pace starts the Is Tropical sea shanty shenanigans. “And when the French handed me over, to the white cliffs of Dover” line is sung a smattering of the lyrical swagger of a certain Damon Albarn’s early years in his writing of the ‘Parklife’ album seems evidently linked. But it’s the beguiling shape shifting ‘Seasick Mutiny’s set closing jaunt that devours the crowd and give it a good fuckin’ shake.
Next Egyptian Hip Hop bound onstage amid the thick muddy-PR storm that has entrenched their recent months. These, like Is Tropical are cunning artists of psychological distortion – they categorically do not come from Cairo nor do they partake in any Hip Hop! And after their very own pimple faced adolescent front man named only as A.H arrogantly bosses the sound engineer around for ten-or-so minutes they get knee-deep into their set.
They meander through a set of watery guitars, chiming keys and soaring synths. Egyptian Hip Hop lay the same effervescent wax-sealed spindly guitars and dream hoody electro polished foundations as American outfit Solid Gold showed the underground indie haunts last year. But the complex structures and insipid live performance doesn’t match the all-together finely tuned performance of the band before them.
Two words are prominently lodged in my mind after tonight’s proceedings…IS TROPICAL!
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About the Author:
AshMeikle is the co-founder of Shout4Music. Experienced in online and print publications, He has written in both London and New York for publications such as; Q Online, SUP Magazine/Online, TourDates, Disorder Magazine, Disappear Here Magazine, along with Whisperin & Hollerin.
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